


You Don't Learn Many Social Skills in the Void

by eraemilius



Series: The Wanderer [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Post-Pacifist Route, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-07 14:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6809119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eraemilius/pseuds/eraemilius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A three-part epilogue following the end of "Wandering in the Dark." Despite becoming an established member of Sans' and Papyrus' family, Gaster finds himself still lacking in relationships. But that won't be a problem for long with Mettaton playing matchmaker and Sans and Papyrus lending their skills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Double Date (Plus One)

Gaster smiled quietly as he watched Toriel bend down to straighten the tie haphazardly knotted around Sans’ neck. Gaster had never seen Sans dressed up before, and was honestly somewhat surprised Toriel had managed to convince him. Even on their nicer dates, Sans was loath to wear anything more formal than a loose-fitted sweater over ill-fitting slacks. Truthfully, even now, the suit he wore was somewhat rumpled and didn’t quite fit the way a suit ought to; but he still looked nice. Nice enough at least not to look too out of place next to Toriel, who was dressed in a long violet gown, jeweled around the neck.

“Oh Sans, stop fidgeting. You look fine,” Toriel said, straightening up again.

Sans was blushing and tugging awkwardly at his collar, trying to adjust it now that Toriel had fixed his messy work. “We’re gonna be late.”

“We’re fine,” Toriel insisted, smiling at him. She stroked a paw across the top of his skull and Sans grinned weakly and fell silent. 

Leaning against the wall near the hallway, Mettaton was waiting, dressed in a loose pink chiffon blouse and fitted black slacks. His usual knee-high pink boots were polished to a gleam. He glanced toward the hall and then down again, sighing softly. He was waiting on Papyrus.

Sans turned toward where Gaster sat on the couch. “You sure you’ll be alright, Dad?”

Gaster looked back quickly, blinking. He smiled sheepishly. “/Sans, I’ll be fine./”

“Yeah, but you’re welcome to come if you want, you know.”

“Sans,” Toriel said, “let the poor man be. He’s already told you he wants to stay in.”

“I know, I know,” Sans muttered, grinning a little at Gaster just the same. “Just don’t want you getting lonely.”

Gaster smiled gratefully at him and stood. “/I’m fine, Sans, really...You all should go out and have a nice evening./”

“I’m ready!” Papyrus announced as he stepped out into the hall. Mettaton immediately looked up, stepping away from the wall. The skeleton was dressed in a grey suit and red tie, much better fitted than his brother’s. He straightened his coat with a smile and glanced at Mettaton, expression slipping into a sheepish blush.

Sans turned back to Gaster. “We both got our phones, so you can call us if you need anything. We shouldn’t be out too late. Leftovers in the fridge. Make sure you lock--”

There was an abrupt _thud_ in the hallway and the trio turned to see Mettaton passionately kissing Papyrus’ face, both his hands clutching the skeleton’s skull. Papyrus seemed to have knocked back into the wall rather unceremoniously when Mettaton had launched at him with a bit too much enthusiasm.

“HEY!” Sans yelled. “COME ON!”

Mettaton broke away from Papyrus, who uttered a startled ‘nyeh’ as he leaned after him. Then both of them turned toward the others, flushed and beaming. Mettaton fixed his hair with one hand and gave Sans an apologetic look while he reached over to wipe a smudge of his lipstick from Papyrus’ teeth. “Oh. Excuse us.”

Sans stared in obvious frustration. “This is gonna be the whole night,” he muttered.

Toriel laughed quietly and pat the top of his skull, stepping forward. “Well, shall we be on our way?”

“Please,” Mettaton said, eagerly taking Papyrus’ hand and hurrying for the door. Papyrus trailed after him, still smiling.

“/Have fun…!/” Gaster said, following to see them to the door.

Mettaton raised a hand over his head in a wave as he slipped out. Papyrus twisted to look back as he was tugged outside, “Bye Dad!”

“See you later, Doctor,” Toriel said kindly, brushing his arm with one paw before she stepped out.

Sans smiled back at at the other man, nodding his head before exiting as well.

Gaster watched them walk down the front path and onto the sidewalk laughing, Mettaton leading the way with Papyrus on his arm and Sans hanging back at Toriel’s side, unable to hide the adoring look in his eyes whenever he glanced up at her. 

…

Not much later, Gaster lounged on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on the floor beside him and a milkshake held lazily in one hand. He was sipping at it through a straw, the room dark except for the light from the television, a marathon of engineering shows that had piqued his interest. He fished a hand over the side of the couch and managed to get a few piece of popcorn in his curled fingers without losing them through the hole in his palm. His previous few attempts at scooping up the snack had resulted in a growing pile of popcorn around the foot of the couch. 

Gaster pushed himself up to a sit as a bit of unexpected knowledge settled in his thoughts. He turned toward the door just as the sound of voices began to carry inside. Gaster blinked as the door was thrown open with a burst of Sans’ blue magic. “Never again!” Sans declared.

Toriel followed Sans in, smiling even as she sighed. She looked up toward Gaster, smiling. “Hello again, Doctor.”

“/You’re back early,/” Gaster commented, confused. He reached over one arm of the couch to set the milkshake down on an end table.

“We had to leave the restaurant,” Sans said, shooting a look out the door. He flicked his hand toward the light switch and a flicker of blue magic tugged the switch up and turned the lights on.

Mettaton and Papyrus slipped in side-by-side, clutching one another’s hand and both blushing and looking rather sheepish (though still smiling). Gaster blinked.

“Someone,” Sans continued, obviously strained, “couldn’t control himself at the table.”

“Oh don’t blame me, Sansy,” Mettaton said loudly, leaning into Papyrus’ side. “It’s not my fault your brother is so good looking in this suit.” Papyrus blushed harder and visibly squeezed the robot’s hand.

Sans put his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes for a moment. “Well, anyway. Here we are.”

“I’ll make dinner for everyone!” Toriel declared, heading for the kitchen without hesitation.

Sans blinked. “Tori! You’re all dressed up, you can’t--!”

“WELL,” Mettaton said loudly, “in that case, we’ll just. Excuse ourselves for a bit.”

Sans turned to watch as Mettaton and Papyrus slipped toward the hall, the robot leading and grinning at Papyrus who was clutching his hand and beaming with great affection. Sans scowled. “Really?”

“It’s a nice suit,” Mettaton said, grinning as he tugged Papyrus into the bedroom and out of sight.

Sans sighed loudly and turned toward Gaster, who sat blinking on the couch. He turned slowly back to his son, looking mildly unsettled but smiling faintly just the same. “/...not exactly what you had in mind?/”

“Shoulda’ never agreed to wearing suits,” Sans said, tilting his chin up and undoing his tie. He pulled it loose and tossed it on the arm of the couch, for the first time noticing the piles of popcorn at the base of the couch. “...you have some trouble with the popcorn?”

Gaster smiled uncomfortably and lifted a hand, twisting it to show off the perfect hole in his palm.

Sans grinned at him. “Still hungry?”

…

Sans sat at the table, swinging his legs while Gaster stepped over a took a seat adjacent to him, a mug of tea in his shaky hands. Toriel was at the counter, humming a tune as she stirred sauce on the stovetop. It was beginning to smell like real food and Sans had to admit, he probably would have preferred Toriel’s cooking to anything a restaurant had to offer anyway.

“Well...how is it going in here?”

The trio turned and Sans gave a scowl to Mettaton and Papyrus, who stood side-by-side in the entryway to the kitchen, their clothing rumpled, Mettaton’s lipstick once again smeared on Papyrus’ skull. “Nice,” Sans muttered sarcastically. Gaster glanced away with awkward discomfort, leaning his chin into his palm.

Mettaton brushed at his disheveled hair, fixing it in place with a smile. “Anything we can do to help?”

Toriel stepped up to Papyrus and lifted the corner of her apron to wipe at his face. He blushed and ducked his head a little, smiling. “You can sit and behave yourselves until dinner is ready.”

“We can do that…!” Papyrus chirped from under her apron. 

Toriel smiled at him and drew the apron back. She hadn’t taken care of all the lipstick, but he looked much better at least. “Please sit.”

Papyrus tugged Mettaton gently to the far side of the table and the two of them sat side-by-side, still holding hands on the tabletop. Gaster glanced up at them, smiling weakly. Papyrus returned the look with a beaming smile of his own. “Now we get to have dinner with you, Dad!”

Gaster chuckled. “/I don’t believe that was the plan, though./”

Mettaton leaned with affection on Papyrus’ shoulder and closed his eyes. Clearly, he was not complaining about the evening’s outcome. Papyrus continued beaming, his skull reddening. He leaned forward over the table a little and spoke softly, “Mettaton looks cool tonight, doesn’t he?”

“/He does,/” Gaster agreed quietly, smiling. “/So do you./”

“Well,” Papyrus said, “we are both very amazing, so...OH, Toriel looks nice though too, doesn’t she??”

Gaster turned in his seat and Toriel looked up from the stove and smiled at them, blushing faintly through her fur. “/She does,/” Gaster said.

“Dad agrees!” Papyrus chimed, smiling.

Toriel laughed quietly. “Thank you both.”

Sans was gazing up at her with the uncharacteristically shy look that occasionally came over him in her presence. She noticed and he cleared his throat and glanced away. Toriel tipped her head to one side, a smirk quirking at her lips. “Sans?”

Sans scratched at his neck, tugging at his collar awkwardly. “Oh. I. It’s nothing. I just agree. Too.”

Mettaton opened his eyes and smiled slyly across the table at Sans. “Oh please, Sans. Tell the lady how you really feel.”

Sans blushed and shot him a glare. “I said I agreed!”

“That doesn’t count,” Mettaton said, waving his free hand. “You’ve got to be honest with your feelings, darling! The audience loves a sincere, heartfelt confession of attraction.”

“I didn’t ask for an audience,” Sans muttered.

Mettaton smiled and lifted the hand holding Papyrus’. He kissed the skeleton’s fingers and lowered their hands again, smirking. Papyrus blushed and bunched his shoulders while Mettaton lay his head back down happily. 

Sans blushed and frowned, glancing away, then up at Toriel. She was smiling back at him quietly, curiously. 

“You...look really nice, T.”

“Thank you, Sans,” Toriel replied, smiling down at him. “You’re looking quite handsome yourself, you know... Although, if you wanted to take that suit off now, I certainly wouldn’t object…”

Sans perked, looking up at her again quickly. “Y-you serious, T?”

Toriel laughed. “Yes, Sans. Please.”

“Heh.” Sans immediately slid out of his chair, heading for the hall. “You’re the best. Be right back.” Toriel shook her head, grinning as she bent to look into the oven.

“Dad?” Gaster turned around in his chair again to face Papyrus. Mettaton had lifted his head and was nuzzling his face gently into the side of Papyrus’ skull. “Do you ever want to get dressed up?”

Gaster blinked. “/Dressed up?/”

“Yeah! In some cool, stylish clothes! Would you like some nice clothes?”

Mettaton’s interest was slightly piqued. He opened his eyes and glanced in Gaster’s direction. Gaster shied away a little under the attention. “/Well...I don’t really...wear clothes.../” He glanced down at himself. His coat was more or less part of him since being reconstructed from the void; he’d not really considered the possibility of wearing something else.

“You could do with a little color,” Mettaton murmured thoughtfully. Papyrus nodded with enthusiasm. 

Gaster fidgeted. “/I-I wouldn’t have anyplace to wear nice clothes, Papyrus./”

“Well you could come out on group dates with us!” Papyrus said. Then a look of uncertainty crossed his face and he frowned. “...oh, I guess you’d need a date though, then.”

“OHH!” Mettaton cooed, suitably interested now. Gaster shrunk back a little in his chair as the robot turned his full attention on him. “Tell me, Doctor, what’s your type? I’m certain I could set you up with someone. I know everyone, afterall.”

Gaster started, too startled to respond for a moment. Then he waved one hand and signed something a bit frantically. “/I-I don’t have one. I’m not really interested, thank you./”

Papyrus tilted his head to one side. “He says he’s not interested.”

“Oh come now, Doctor,” Mettaton pressed, smiling mischievously and reaching across the table to lay his free hand over one of Gaster’s. “You like ME, don’t you? Someone like me?” Gaster’s face flushed immediately and he seemed to shrink into his seat. “That is a challenge, though. After all, there’s only ONE me…Still, I’m sure we could find _someone_ at least remotely comparable to myself...”

“/P-please,/” Gaster muttered with discomfort, signing again with his free hand, “/I can’t say I’m particularly interested in the whole idea./”

Papyrus frowned thoughtfully. “You don’t want to date anyone?”

Gaster shook his head.

“Oh,” Mettaton said, sounding a little disappointed as he withdrew his hand and leaned into Papyrus’ shoulder once more. Gaster tugged his hand into his lap and looked aside uncomfortably. “Well,” Mettaton said. “Have you ever tried it?”

“/No,/” Gaster admitted, still fumbling with his hands out of sight.

“Well,” Mettaton purred, “perhaps we could set you up on a little friend date so that you could join us…”

“/A...friend date?/”

“Yes! Although, it will be rather hard for you to meet someone, what with the language barrier…” Mettaton huffed quietly, seeming quite invested in this scenario. “I suppose you can type though...You communicate with the flower that way, don’t you?”

Gaster perked up immediately and opened his mouth.

“NO,” Sans said as he stepped back into the room, “you are not bringing the flower along with us on a date.” Toriel smiled over her shoulder at him as she began loading up plates of food at the counter. Sans, back in his usual jacket and shorts, climbed back into his chair and leaned on the tabletop.

Gaster looked at Sans and frowned, then looked back at the robot slowly. Mettaton hummed, giving this legitimate thought. “What about that bartender from Snowdin? He’s got a place here in town now, hasn’t he?”

“/Grillby?/” Gaster asked.

“Oh yeah, Grillby,” Sans said. “Well, I gotta admit, he’s _hot_.” A second later he put his face into his hand, snickering. 

Toriel struggled not to drop the plates as she stepped over and set one down in front of Sans and the other in front of her own place. “Grillby? Wasn’t he an old _flame_ of yours, Sans?”

“Yeah,” Sans went on, struggling not to laugh, “we were quite the _match_.” Toriel’s snickering grew louder behind him. “Y’know, even now, he still kinda gets me... _fired_ up.” Sans snorted into his hand, closing his eyes as his shoulders shook with laughter. Toriel had to lean her free hand on the back of his chair, bent over, laughing.

Mettaton and Papyrus stared at the two of them, silently voicing their disapproval. Mettaton was the first to turn slowly back to Gaster, smiling slyly. “So, doctor, what do you say?”

Gaster looked from Sans and Toriel back to Mettaton, obviously uncomfortable.

“I might add,” Mettaton said, before Gaster could reject the suggestion, “that Grillby is known for being a man of few words. You could both sit around and not talk to each other.”

Gaster’s brows went up slightly at this, but he frowned just the same.

Sans was just catching his breath, but he managed to speak up: “You know, you’re right. Dad, you might actually get along with Grillby.”

Gaster turned toward him, distressed. “/S-sans.../”

“I’m not saying you gotta go on a date with him!” Sans said, waving a hand. “But you two might get along. And god knows you could use more friends.”

“And who knows, Doctor,” Mettaton purred, nudging the side of Papyrus’ face gently. “You may find yourself unexpectedly consumed with... _burning_ passion.”

Sans burst into laughter at the end of the table and Toriel barely managed to stifle her own beside him. “METTATON!” Papyrus barked in offense, leaning away from him. “That was--! This is serious!!”

Mettaton grinned at him, tilting his head a little. “I’m sorry, darling, didn’t you like that one?”

“NO!” Papyrus insisted. “It was terrible! I…” Mettaton continued to grin at him and Papyrus began to smile, despite himself. “I hated it.”

Mettaton leaned in and kissed him and Papyrus settled back into his chair contentedly. At the end of the table, Toriel put one arm around Sans while he tried to wipe the tears from his right eye.

Dinner continued in approximately the same fashion, although the subject of setting Gaster up with someone was thankfully dropped once the doctor consented to _meet_ Grillby at some undefinable time in the future. To Gaster’s mild surprise, he was not nearly as much the odd man out as he expected. Although Papyrus and Mettaton easily became their own little world from time to time, Toriel and Sans were both happy to keep Gaster in the conversation as much as possible. Gaster couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t exactly the sort of romantic evening they had had in mind, but...he wasn’t sure they minded much. They seemed happy to be together, and happy to have him as well.


	2. Meeting Grillby

Meeting Grillby

Gaster sat back from the desk where he’d spent most of the afternoon hunched over a gutted tablet, its pieces spread out on the desktop around him. He flinched and stretched a bit, frowning at how much he’d let the time get away from him without even noticing it. The light outside was orange and hazy; the sun was already going down and he hadn’t hardly left his room since he’d woken up that morning. It was just as well, really. Mettaton was visiting and despite his best efforts, Gaster still couldn’t behave quite as...casually around him as he’d like to be. Not to mention, after the robot’s efforts to matchmake him the other night, he was feeling particularly awkward and skittish about interacting with him.

Gaster sighed and curled his fingers into his palms, cracking the joints in his knuckles. He had to eat something, at the very least. He was frankly a little surprised that even with Mettaton here, Papyrus had not at some point come knocking on his door to urge him to have a meal. He couldn’t really blame Papyrus though, honestly. Afterall, Mettaton had a way of attracting one’s full attention, distracting one from ordinary everyday thoughts that would otherwise--

Gaster shook his head and chased the thought away. He stood up and pushed the chair under the desk, giving the neat little piles of parts a last look before he turned and slipped into the hall.

He wondered if the three of them (Sans was home, as far as Gaster knew) had had dinner without him, though that seemed unlikely. If Papyrus had thought to eat dinner at all, he certainly would have at least asked if Gaster had wanted to join them; unless Gaster had been so invested in dismantling the tablet that he’d totally tuned them out...

The door to Papyrus’ room was ajar, so Gaster crept over and leaned into the room quietly. 

He immediately stumbled back into the hall, flushed with embarrassment and signing in rather candid distress. It took a significant amount of effort not to choke out a startled noise that might give him away (or might not, to be honest; they were rather wholly engaged with one another). He looked up sharply at the sudden awareness of Sans’ presence and found Sans standing just a few feet away in the living room at the end of the hall, staring at him. Gaster managed a little squeak of discomfort and swallowed.

“I know that expression,” Sans said stiffly. “...you wanna go get a drink?”

“/Please,/” Gaster choked before quickly moving away from the door in the hall.

…

“You know, I really wasn’t big on Mettaton when Pap started dating him,” Sans said, hands in his jacket pockets as he walked the sidewalk at Gaster’s side. “He’s a big celebrity, right? And the guy always seemed pretty conceited. Plus, Papyrus didn’t really know what the hell he was doing, I don’t care how many dating manuals he’s read.”

Gaster slunk along at Sans’ side, his hands clasped lightly in front of him. The air was still cold outside this time of day, although most of the snow had melted in the afternoon. Everything was cast in a warm, orange glow as the sun sank further beyond the hills. 

“Mettaton isn’t so bad though,” Sans mused. “I mean, he’s never hurt Papyrus. And he sure respects him. That was the most important thing, you know? I wanted to know the guy wasn’t just messing around, playing my bro for a fool. But he’s not. Those two are practically inseparable; you’ve seen it. Sometimes I almost think Mettaton’s a bigger fan of my brother than Papyrus is of him. Heh. Hard to believe, though.”

Gaster smiled weakly. 

“Still doesn’t mean I wanna be around when they’re tangled up in each other.”

Gaster’s smile crumbled. He took an anxious breath and looked ahead of them. “/It must be nice,/” Gaster murmured.

Sans glanced up at him. “What?”

Gaster hesitated. “/Oh. Ah. Nothing./”

Sans tipped his head a little. “...what, having a partner?”

“/Not quite,/” Gaster said, genuinely unsure of what he’d meant. “/Where are we headed?/”

Sans scrutinized his father a moment longer before looking ahead again. “Grillby’s.”

Gaster stopped abruptly with a small choked sound. Sans glanced back at him, hands in his pockets. He quirked a smile and tilted his head. “What’s the problem, Dad?”

Gaster stammered a little before closing his mouth. He fidgeted, signing something before pulling his hands out of sight behind him. “/Why didn’t you tell me??/”

Sans grinned at him. “Dad, come on, what’re you worried about? You look fine, Grillby’s gonna think you’re _hot_ stuff.”

Gaster’s face went red. “/Sans!!/”

Sans laughed and put a hand to his mouth to stifle it, grinning aside. “Aw c’mon, Dad, I’m just teasing. Grillby’s is the best place in town to get a drink--for monsters, at least. It’s also the closest, and I know you don’t like going far from the house.” He put a hand over the center of his chest, over the place where his Soul rest inside his ribs. “I swear, I’m not trying to set you up.”

Gaster stared at Sans skeptically, trying to shake off the anxiety that had settled into his gut. He fidgeted with his hands behind his back. “/I have my doubts about that, Sans.../”

“Dad,” Sans said, gathering his shirt a little in the hand on his chest. “I swear. I am _not_ trying to set you up. After all, why would I get your hopes up? Grillby might not even be into you, and I wouldn’t want you to get _burned_.”

“/Sans.../” Gaster smiled weakly, placatingly, as Sans chuckled. Then he sighed with defeat and began walking slowly, putting a hand on Sans’ shoulder as he came in step with him again. “/Children are supposed to respect their parents, you know.../”

“Aw Dad,” Sans said, reaching an arm out and patting him on the back. “Who told you that?”

…

Despite Gaster’s attempts to withdraw into a corner booth, Sans insisted they sit at the bar once they’d gotten inside. The restaurant was relatively crowded this time of day, but there was an open space at the end of the bar where Gaster could be suitably away from anyone else. Gaster could tell, from the way Sans kept looking at him, that despite Sans’ continued attempts to push Gaster out of his comfort zone, the young skeleton was looking out for him, and he was grateful for it. A few weeks ago, this would have been impossible; getting him out of the house and across town to a restaurant full of people? It still wasn’t easy, but...Gaster was improving. 

He glanced around anxiously while Sans talked about the new place. It looked very much like the old Grillby’s in Snowdin, though admittedly Gaster had never been there. His knowledge of the place was a bit of leftover inference from his omniscient presence in the Void. He wondered, distantly, how Sans had found Grillby’s in _this_ timeline. It was a bit of knowledge that had somehow escaped him, like many of the minor alterations in timespace that had filled in gaps left by Gaster’s absence. 

In Gaster’s own timeline, his young son had first discovered Grillby’s when he’d begun sneaking out of his father’s lab to experiment with his magic without Gaster’s supervision (or permission). It was at Grillby’s that his sons’ magic was exposed, that they were taken in by the Royal Guard, that they were discovered by Asgo--

“Grillby!” Sans said with enthusiasm. Gaster turned quickly, snapped from his thoughts and immediately feeling the heat from the fire elemental’s presence as Grillby approached them. Grillby stood behind the bar, well-dressed and, like all monsters of his kind, unreadable. He had a face entirely consumed by flames, licking upward toward the ceiling, and a pair of glasses, Gaster noted with mild amusement, with no eyes behind them.  
Beside Gaster, Sans was grinning, bathed in the orange glow of Grillby’s flames. “How’s it going, Grillby? How’s business? You got quite a crowd tonite.”

True to Mettaton’s description, Grillby said nothing; he just nodded, somehow amiably, and glanced with mild interest at Gaster. “Ey,” Sans said, nodding to Gaster with a wide grin. “Grillby, we haven’t had a chance to introduce you yet. This is my and Pap’s Dad, Wing Dings Gaster. Dad, Grillby.”

Gaster shrunk a little, regarding the other monster with anxiety. Grillby stared at him a while, giving Gaster a long appraising stare. Then he nodded, formally, and glanced back at Sans. Sans grinned and lifted a hand with two fingers. “Two drinks and two burgs, Grillby. The usual. Thanks.”

Grillby nodded again and stepped away. Immediately, the room seemed to grow cooler. Gaster watched him go, quiet.

“Sooo,” Sans said, drawing the word out. “Interested?”

Gaster made a quiet distressed sound and Sans chuckled good naturedly, leaning on the bar. Gaster glanced over at him quietly, pinning Sans with a surprisingly thoughtful stare. “/He’s looked after you for quite a while, hasn’t he?/”

Sans blinked and hesitated then spoke softly. “Yeah, long while. You just ‘know’ that?”

Gaster hummed a quiet affirmative. “/You were, however, kidding about being former partners./”

Sans grinned again. “You have me there. Tori’s my first, to be honest. Hard not to _fan the flames_ once you get started on a good fire joke though.”

Gaster lapsed into silence, glancing down the bar, where several other monsters were seated. Grillby was serving a drink to one of them who raised it in a quiet cheer. “/May I tell you something?/” Gaster said quietly.

“About yourself?”

“/Yes./”

“Well that’d be new,” Sans remarked and Gaster sighed again. “Sorry,” Sans said, grin softening a bit. “Go ahead.”

Gaster regarded Sans for a moment, then he spoke, quietly. “/I’ve never been interested romance, or...activities which accompany it./” He glanced behind the bar at the rows of liquor on display there. “/I had a family, yes, but the circumstances of that family were...rather unique. I’ve never had a partner. For a time it was a source of some embarrassment, but I’ve long outgrown that. Even still...Seeing you and your brother with your partners, it’s.../” He signed something under the bar. “/Strange? No. I’m sorry, that sounds rude, it’s...Well, frankly, without having it directly in front of me, it’s easy for me to forget that partnership is quite natural and common to most monsters./”

Sans regarded him quietly, his cheek leaning in one palm. “...what’re you saying, Dad? You feel left out?”

“/Not quite, and yet.../” Gaster frowned. He lifted his hands to the bar and looked down at them. “/Have you ever been jealous of someone, for something you didn’t even want? No, ‘jealous’ isn’t the right word…’Lacking,’ perhaps. Seeing the presence of partners in your lives makes me more aware of the absence of a partner in my own, despite the fact that I have no desire for a partner and never have./” He hesitated, as though to confirm that his words had accurately described his feelings. “/Does that make sense?/”

“A little,” Sans admitted. He smiled weakly. “Hey, sorry we were teasing you the other night. I think Mettaton just sort of leapt at the chance to matchmake someone, heh.”

“/It’s alright, Sans,/” Gaster said, smiling gently. “/It’s just had me thinking. Perhaps I _could_ use a friend, at the very least. Someone outside my immediate family. Someone to share some degree of platonic intimacy with. Companionship is very good for the wellbeing of any organism./”

Sans smiled quietly. Gaster still couldn’t seem to break the habit of going unnecessarily clinical when he approached any given problem. “Well...Grillby’s a good guy,” Sans said. “I mean. You just said you knew he’s always looked out for me. And he doesn’t talk much. You like that.”

Gaster wrung his hands on the bar. “/I’m not sure someone who doesn’t talk would make a good companion for me, honestly,/” Gaster said quietly. “/If we never talk, how will we stand any chance of getting to know each other?/”

“Good point,” Sans remarked. He grinned as Grillby returned, bringing his heat with him, along with two plates and two drinks balanced on a tray in his hand. He lay the plates down on the bar (a burger on each) and set a drink in front of each of them. “Hey, thanks, Grillby. Looks great. Put it on my tab, would ya?”

“...”

“Thanks a ton.”

“/A skele-ton,/” Gaster murmured without thinking.

Sans snorted loudly, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter. Gaster glanced at him, smiling rather sheepishly.

Grillby, whose face was nigh unreadable, managed to form an expression of apathetic disdain before he turned away and left again. Gaster smiled wanly after him, admittedly a bit disappointed to feel the heat leave with the monster. Beside him, Sans put his face in his hand, catching his breath.

…

When Sans and Gaster returned to the house, Mettaton and Papyrus were at the front door, trying and failing to say their goodbyes. Sans shook his head with a somewhat defeated grin as they walked up. Inseparable was the word for them, alright. Papyrus noticed them over Mettaton’s shoulder and perked up, beaming. “Sans! Dad! Welcome back!!” Gaster smiled quietly, fidgeting with his hands.

Mettaton turned to glance over his shoulder himself, looking a little disappointed to be interrupted in the midst of what was surely a dramatic farewell. He was holding both of Papyrus’ hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs on the back of the skeleton’s fingers.

“Where did you two go?” Papyrus asked, beaming. Several noticeable prints of Mettaton’s dark lipstick were on the side of his skull, beneath his left eye. They seemed to have already washed off the rest.

“Grillby’s,” Sans said, stopping just in front of them.

Mettaton perked up immediately, turning his full attention on Gaster with a grin. “Grillby’s!” He gave Sans a quick conspiratorial grin which Sans shrugged at before looking back at Gaster again, his expression both eager and mischievous. “Well! What did you think, Doctor? Any sparks??”

Gaster frowned uncomfortably and shook his head. 

Mettaton’s expression fell. _Really?_ ”

“I think we’re gonna take it easy with the matchmaking,” Sans said, nudging Gaster gently. “Dad’s not really into it.”

Mettaton frowned at Sans, then returned his attention to Gaster, looking almost as though he were about to pout. “Doctor, that’s such a shame, though. I had so many ideas!”

“/I-ideas?/” Gaster muttered awkwardly.

“Oh yes!” Mettaton chimed, releasing Papyrus and reaching forward to grip Gaster’s arm in one hand. The monster stiffened slightly. “Don’t you think my viewers would be interested in seeing a charming old monster like yourself find the love of his life on live TV??”

A few incomprehensible words stumbled out of Gaster’s mouth at the suggestion. He shook his head in rapid rejection, but Mettaton seemed to misunderstand his distress. He gave the monster’s arm a small encouraging squeeze and released him, leaning against Papyrus’ side. “I shan’t give up, Doctor. You leave it to me.”

_“Mettaton,”_ Sans muttered.

“No, no!” Mettaton plowed ahead, “I insist! I’ll find you a perfect match, Doctor, you have my word.” He turned to Papyrus with a smile. “Papyrus, be a dear and give me your father’s cellphone number, I may need to consult him on several points of preference. The only thing I have to go on now is that he’s into me, and I am far too fabulous in far too many ways to narrow it down at all…”

“O-Oh!” Papyrus chirped, immediately fishing in his pockets for his phone. “Sure thing, Mettaton! That is a very good point.”

Gaster watched rather helplessly, his face warm and flushed. He felt Sans place an encouraging hand on his back and he glanced down at his son, who was grinning up at him apologetically. “Sorry, Dad.”

Gaster sighed defeatedly, unable to keep from smiling as Sans chuckled beside him.


End file.
